Open Fire
by thepalehorsevictoria
Summary: In 15:15 Metal, Hadley Hawke finds herself aboard the Kirkwall, an old ship still flying across Thedas, and completely torn between Sebastian and Anders.
1. Chapter 1

_This story started as a dream of a very particular scene, and then I started building a world and a plot around it, and holy cow, it's gotten away from me. But here goes._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Whoever knows pain is raised<br>**__**From the fire that burns in desire**_

_In 15:15 Metal, the _Kirkwall_ roams the plains of Thedas. Much like tales men tell of the_ Nebuchadnezzar_, the _Galactica_ or_ Serenity_, it's barely held together in some places, and it's been flying for longer than some people can remember._

* * *

><p>On Level 14, Hawke hunched over a table, the light source below illuminating her face, with her eyes narrowed at the large clump of seaweed and coral that the Corporal hauled in. Salt water formed a puddle around it, and started dripping over the edge of the table and onto the floor. It stank, and a small part of her wished she didn't have to deal with it, but it was her job.<p>

"Well, what is it?"

Hawke reached for a scanner and held it up to the clump, and then she reached into the back of her mind, recalling the memory of _the last time she was on solid ground, and she could feel the sun shine down on her face, warm and bright and real_. When she focused back on the object, she could see past the plant life and the coral, and there was a chain underneath.

"What the...?"

She whisked around to find a long metal pick somewhere along the walls of her work room, and then . . . no hammer. _Shit. But this book should do_. One, two, three well-placed knocks and the coral fell away, and Hawke could see a small tarnished metal chain.

"Where did you find it?"

"Wounded Coast. Standard survey. Captain brought us pretty close to the shoreline, and I almost tripped over it."

"Strange. Oh. I don't want to touch that."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the Corporal's weight shift, uneasy and just a little impatient. She straightened her back, and rummaged through her desk for something . . . two pencils, held together in one hand, let her pull away strands of seaweed and Maker knows what else away. The chain grew longer, and she couldn't pull it free, it was stuck on something.

The constant hum of the ship's engine and systems was interrupted as the intercom crackled from the other side of the room. "_Red Corporal to Level 10, Red Corporal to Level 10 for debriefing_."

"Damn. Can I leave it with you?"

"Of course." She didn't look up, but used one of the pencils to turn the mass and held the scanner closer. When the metal of the door clanked open and then closed again, and after she counted ten loud footsteps of metal against metal, Hawke took a deep breath and set the scanner down.

It had been broken for over a year, but at least the lamp still worked, and she could still pretend to look through it. And the Red Corporal was none the wiser.

_How long can I keep this up?_

The chain was definitely stuck on something. Hawke pondered pouring an acid so that all the coral might dissolve, but then Salvage wouldn't have anything iif they could get anything out of this/i. Her posture worsened as she hunched in closer, picking away with the two pencils.

Something inside finally knocked loose, and the chain gained more slack as more coral and seaweed fell away. It smelled rotten, and Hawke was grateful that the Corporal wasn't there to see her make a face as she came close to harfing.

A piece of metal clinked onto the table, round and dark. _A locket?_

Hawke grabbed a tray from another table and started prodding the refuse into it to send down to Level 2. The necklace was tarnished, but still in tact, and if she cleaned it off, maybe she could coax out some details or whether there were any precious metals. _Silverite? Wishful thinking._

She'd have to work fast before Corporal Vael came back.

* * *

><p>She ran a hand through her hair and pulled at the collar of her lab coat before she nudged the door open, and she couldn't help but smile a little at the familiar smells of antiseptic and bandages.<p>

When he wasn't with a patient, she always found him on the floor, leaned against the warmest wall of the clinic with a large book in his lap and sipping out of a metal cup. Hawke quietly walked up to the exam table and set the shallow tray down on it, giving him a few more moments to finish whatever sentence he was reading. His head was bent down so his long hair hid his face from view, but she knew that he had already seen her come in.

"Find something interesting?" He looked up, and his smile made her chest feel concave for a second.

"A necklace. Corporal Vael found it at the Wounded Coast," Hawke pulled her coat closer around herself against the cold of the room, and focused on the object on top of the bed of gauze in the tray and not at the man wrapped up in a red sweater that made his hair look almost _golden._

He uncrossed his ankles, bent his knees, and _pushed_ himself _up_ the smooth metal wall. He stopped at a nearby sink to fill his mug.

"Thirsty?"

"Thank you. And cold." She smiled a little. He filled another metal mug from the sink, and by the time he made it over to the exam table, the water was near boiling from the small fire spell in his hands. She accepted it gladly, and the warmth of the mug and the hot water helped against the chill of Level 14. "You're not busy, are you, doctor?"

"Oh, no. Red Company didn't have any injuries." The doctor wheeled a stool over to the table and sat down, peering at the necklace. "You've cleaned it?"

Hawke nodded, her hands still wrapped around the warm metal. "Diluted hydrochloric acid to three percent. You'd thank me for not making you smell what it came in."

His nose crinkled. "Silverite chain. Pretty old." He reached inside his sweater and took out a pen, and carefully turned the pendant over. "There's a hinge, this is a locket. I can't believe the latch is still in tact." His eyes darted up to her. "You haven't _touched_ this, have you?"

"No. I know better. Tweezers and pencils."

"Oh, good. Sometimes I come across stories of some pretty scary things enchanted into amulets and rings and things." The doctor went back to the necklace. "I'll take a picture of the engraving and see if it's in any of my books."

"Thank you. Vael went for a debriefing, he'll want to know more when he comes back."

"Mmph. He'll want to hold onto it." There was an edge in his voice she could barely make out.

"It's an artifact. That makes its place in my lab."

He didn't reply as he pulled down the imager from its mount on the ceiling, and he fiddled with the controls for a while, his eyes darting back and forth to the features on the screen. Hawke sipped at her water and watched him work. A series of beeps, and he hoisted the machine back up. "There," he whirled around on his stool to the terminal behind him. "I'll let you know as soon as I find something." He pushed his glasses back up his nose as the computer database started up.

"Thank you."

He turned back to her. "If Vael gives you shit, you can tell him to take it up with me. We'll see if he gets any of the good stuff next time he pulls a hamstring." A smile peeked from the corner of his lips and Hawke could feel a faint flutter in her chest.

And then she kept standing there.

"Aw, man." When she caught herself, there was a second of panic and then she tried to pass it off as fatigue. She stretched her arms out in an exaggerated yawn, but then she flinched forward at a jab of pain.

The doctor darted up and caught her, his hand flying to her lower back. "_Hawke_, you really should know better than to hunch over your table." A warm flare of energy sent goosebumps up her back. "I don't mind doing this, but it'd be much easier if you just put some blocks under the table legs and raised it up." He rubbed at the spot, and another wave of heat rippled through her.

Hawke wanted to melt. "I know, Anders. I just . . . haven't gotten around to it." She shruggled and smiled, and for a moment she was incredibly relaxed and _he was so warm_, and then she realized that he was still holding her, and she froze. "I . . . should go."

For a beat, he didn't move, and then he nodded, and the spot on her back felt cold when he withdrew his hand. Hawke picked up the tray and scurried out, eager for the familiar space of her work room.

Once safely inside, Hawke set the necklace down on her table, perched herself on her stool and promptly slumped forward, softly banging her forehead on the surface. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Dumbstruck and awkward and why_ him _of all people?_ But she knew why - Anders was confident in his talents, and she wasn't. The fact that he was very easy on the eyes didn't hurt, either. But if anything came of it, it would draw unwanted attention, and Hawke was desperate to lay low and keep her position in Research instead of getting conscripted for field work. Hawke knew that she was not cut out for it; she had spent a long time running and doing odd jobs before joining the _Kirkwall_, and she had had enough. _Leave the expeditions to the brave._

At some point, she must have fallen asleep, because the sound of her door clanking open made her straighten back up and she was grateful for Anders working on her back. The Corporal stepped in. "Hawke?"

"Yes, Vael." She rubbed at her eyes and face, glancing at the clock to see how long she had been out. _Two hours. Shit._ Last time he was here, she was easily distracted by the watery chunk of rock he brought in, but now there was nothing to keep her from fumbling like she always did when she saw him. "I managed to unearth this necklace from the debris, and most of the residue washed off after a very mild acid bath. Anders is running the image on the locket against the database to see if it means anything." Hawke watched him lean in to get a better look, his blue eyes positively captivating with the light from her work table, but suddenly she was more concerned with him reaching out with one hand. "I wouldn't touch it. It's silverite, which makes it _very_ old, and we don't know anything about it or what it could do."

He straightened back up, eyebrows furrowed and he narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. "You don't think it's-"

"Enchanted? Maybe. I'll have to run some tests and read up on some history." He reached for it again, but Hawke saw it coming, and managed to catch his wrist. "_Sebastian!_"

"What, am I supposed to _leave_ it here?" His accent was thick, and _leave_ almost sounded exotic.

"I need to look into this. If it's as old as we think it is, it belongs in Research and Artifacts. At least until I can make sure it's safe." She started to feel uneasy with how he hadn't taken his eyes off of her. "If you don't like it, take it up to Captain Vallen." The corporal looked at her through hooded eyes, standing impossibly straight and making her crane her neck to look up at him from her stool, and she could almost be intimidated but she knew she was right.

Finally, Sebastian sighed, acknowledging her. "Alright. It stays here and you Fourteens can talk about it to the high heavens. But at some point, iI'm/i getting it back. _I_ found it, it's mine." He bent his neck, giving her the slightest nod, took one last look at the necklace and left.

At some point, Hawke's heart rate slowed to a more manageable speed. _Maker, he was infuriating at times._ And she kicked herself again for letting Red Captain Isabela point out that his ass was especially enticing when he stomped away angry from something while in that _snug_ black combat gear. _Dammit, dammit, dammit._

A buzzer went off in the hallway, and Hawke got up to lock the necklace away.


	2. Chapter 2

Hawke easily locked up her work room with lightning speed and sprinted for the six lengths of iron ladders to get down to Level 8 faster than most of the rest of the ship so she could get a good meal. There was no hope for her to get the choice portions reserved for the military, but she was happy enough with what she got as long as there was more than just one piece of meat in her stew. And, if she was fast enough and sweet enough, she could get another roll of bread or two. Today, however, with both Red and Blue teams on board, Cricket had a sour look on his face as he doled out her portion, and that meant that she wouldn't get any more.

But it was enough, and it was hot, and the mess hall was much, much warmer than Level 14 since it was closer to the ship's engine floors. Hawke was always happy to take her time and savor her dinner here, and she leaned over to take a deep whiff of the vegetables next to the chicken on her plate. When the teams came back successful, there was fresh produce for a while, and Hawke was grateful for small things like food in any other color than brown.

Two metal trays of food slid onto the table to flank her, and just by looking at their contents, she knew that Varric would sit on her left, and Merrill on her right. The dwarf had a large helping of chicken and potatoes, and his partner's tray held nothing but greens. When there was fresh produce to spare, the elf would take both her portion and Varric's, and he'd help himself to her share of brown food.

"So, anything new and exciting today?"

Varric started a dramatic sigh, but Merrill cut in. "He started a new set of cadets today."

"Oh. Can any of them see straight?"

"Gods. I don't know where these came from. If they're going to be the next fighter squadron, we're doomed. Daisy here doesn't know how sweet she's got it with the young 'uns."

Merrill was humming softly, curling tendrils of boiled greens around her fork. "Oh, you old _lout_. Always so negative."

"I have to be, sweets, or they won't be able to fly worth a damn!"

"Maybe they're just not cut out for it, hmm?"

Hawke's eyes wandered to the group of people seated a few tables over. Red Captain Isabela must have been teasing Carver something fierce, because he was as red as his bandana and staring at his steak, and the woman had her head thrown back in laughter. Sebastian found it funny, too, a small grin offering a glimpse of a bit of green stuck in between his white teeth. Next to them, Blue Captain Aveline had her face buried in her hand as Donnic practically inhaled his dinner, and Sergeant Fenris ate slowly, with his fork in one hand and a book in the other.

Isabela turned to her, and Hawke startled a little before she focused back on her chicken, feeling her cheeks burn. _As if she needed to feel any more awkward._ In her peripheral vision she could tell that Isabela had mentioned her to Carver and Sebastian, because all three were looking at her now, talking about her, no doubt, and she wanted to melt through the metal grate of the floor all the way down to Level Zero.

Hawke finished her meal quickly, making small noises and short answers to the rest of her dinner conversation, and quickly got up to leave. _Besides, she had a necklace to look into_. She went back into the queue and signed for Anders' meal, and started to head up the stairs.

"Hadley!"

Only one person ever called her that, and she knew she could not avoid him, so she turned to face her brother.

"Good to see you back, Carver." She had to crane her neck up to look at him, he had grown _so tall_, even for his young age.

"Corporal says you have his find."

"Indeed I do. It's old, brother. You know what that could mean." And he did, she could see it register as something their father warned them about. "If he's sending you after me, tell him I'll be done when I'm done." She turned to leave. "I should get this to the doctor before it gets cold."

Private Carver Hawke couldn't help the small smile at her words. "Well, we wouldn't want _that_, would we?" Whether he was poking fun at her favor for _Doctor Feelgood_ as he liked to tease or how trivial cold chicken would be, she didn't care - probably both.

The chicken was almost frigid by the time Hawke made it back up to Level 14. Thankfully the door to the clinic was wide open and she didn't have to do any balancing acts to get in.

Anders took in a sharp breath at her arrival, but did not look away from the terminal screen. "Chicken." Another whiff. "Thank you, Hawke. But you shouldn't have."

She set it down on his examination table. "You can thank me by eating," she smiled, but the smile quickly vanished as she held her hands over the tray and_focused_. Heat was harder than Fade sight - at least, it was harder now that she was so incredibly out of practice. "Find anything yet?"

"Something, anyway. It looks a lot like this one from the Dragon Age," but I highly doubt it. Maybe it's more like a copy."

Hawke was staring holes into the chicken. _Come on, dammit, warm!_ "Isn't that a little, I don't know, dangerous to assume it's a copy? I mean, it could still be enchanted."

"I don't know. It just looks ... weird. What _are you doing_?"

"Warming your dinner." Her hands hurt a little. "Or failing to."

Anders wheeled his stool over to her. "That trick only works with Mages, sweetheart." There was a smile in his voice, and Hawke bit her tongue to keep herself from confessing. She had been on the run for ever and ever, her and Bethany, and even telling _Anders_ could mean trouble and conscription. _But then it could get me on the Red or the Blue teams._

Hawke shook her head, and forced a smile. "Ah, well. It was worth a shot, eh?" She nudged the tray closer to him, and Anders almost smirked as he reached for the tray. Less than a minute in his hands, a small amount of steam rose from the food, and the look on his face was adorably smug.

His hand was wonderfully warm when he touched hers. "Thanks again. If not for you, I'd never eat."

"Guess I'll have to stick around, then." _What the hell was she doing?_ Hawke busied herself with the image on the computer screen. "So what's this?"

"It wasn't unheard of for nobles to have copies of famous pieces made, like that replica of Starfang in the general's office? That's really not the real thing, obviously." Anders instinctively covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he chewed. "This looks a lot like an amulet associated with ... _Asha'bellanar_. I'll have to ask Merrill or Feynriel what it means, I think. No Elven translation. Ever since the First Seheron War, the database hasn't gotten much attention."

Hawke hoisted herself up onto the exam table, trying to ignore the cold metal. "Well, there's job security for me."

He kept reading off the screen, his lips smacking softly as he chewed. "At any rate, this Asha'bellanar can't be good. It's also _ridiculously_ old, and I _highly_ doubt Sebastian's find is this amulet. So if it's a copy, it should be alright."

"I don't know, Anders. They say those scorch marks on Level 10 were from the last time we thought something was safe."

He set the empty tray on the table beside her and stood up, suddenly very close, the light fabric of his scrubs brushing against her knees. "Let me put it to you this way. I _looked_ and I didn't see anything, alright? It's fine. Let _Vael_ hang it around his neck or give it to some harpy or whatever. It's not worth your time."

And, after a moment, "_He's_ not worth your time."

His choice of words surprised her a little, and Hawke couldn't think of anything to say in response, and so she just looked at him. He had leaned over, his hands on the table with his arms bracketed around her. He was tired, with dark circles starting under his eyes, and she wanted to reach up and smooth them out, and before she could stop herself, she was brushing a strand of hair out of his face. Anders closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, his stubble tickling her palm, and the sensation stole her breath right out of her lungs.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he closed the distance between them and covered her lips with his, and he was _so warm_ and she couldn't remember how long she had wanted this.

_But he's wrong_.

Hawke jolted backwards. "I ... have to go," and she was off the table and out the door.

She didn't stop until she was down the stairs and behind the closed door of her quarters on Level 13. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." _His lips had no reason being that warm, and if he had kissed her, obviously there was some attraction there, and if she had stayed perhaps she could be _very_ warm if he wrapped his arms around her and do those scrubs he wears have an elastic waist, or would I have to untie them stop it, stop it, stop it!_

For once, Hawke was grateful for the lack of hot water in her cabin shower, and the shiver gradually brought her back to her rational mind. It had to be the Asha'bellanar amulet, a mere trinket copy wouldn't have survived so long, even if it was well-made. Her father often warned her of strong, old magic and he wouldn't have been surprised to find an amulet that was at least six hundred years old.

She'd have to bring it to the Ship Captain, and he'd tell the General, likely, and they'd both want to see it. _Maker_, she didn't want to be on the same_level_ as that man - for sure he'd be able to _smell_ her and then she'd be whisked away and conscripted. The thought of General Cullen's incredibly keen senses made her rub harder at the shampoo in her hair.

After she rinsed off and dried, she dressed in thick, loose pants and a sweater and curled into her favorite blanket on her bunk. The familiar smell of her mother's soap from the blanket pulled her mind away from the amulet in her work room above her, and Hawke buried her nose into the fabric, wrapping it tighter around her, and she fell asleep to dream of brown eyes framed by wisps of long blond hair.

The next morning Hawke wasted no time, scurrying down the narrow ladders to Level 12, where she found Merrill surrounded by ten children listening to her read. She took advantage of the wait and finished her breakfast of dry bread that she found in her stash in her quarters, and she wanted butter, but she didn't want to stand in line.

The elf saw her, and she must have seen the look on her face to mean something, because she roused her students into some drawing to keep them busy and came out into the hallway to meet her. "Something you need, Hawke?"

"Have you ever heard of Asha'bellanar?"

Merrill frowned and her forehead crinkled a little, and she leaned up against the wall. "I haven't heard that name for a long time. Sometimes it's used to frighten the children, but it's not a story we tell much anymore."

"What is it, or who is it?"

"From what I remember, it's another name for a witch. Probably the worst of them all if the name's been around all this time." She crossed her arms. "I think it's the Dalish name for Flemeth." A small squeal came from the classroom. "Oh, dear, maybe it's not quite time for sharp pencils. Why do you ask?"

Hawke couldn't lie to her friend, but she didn't want to pull her in, either. "It came up in something I've been working on." She didn't make eye contact. "And there are usually gaps in the database when elven culture comes up, I figured if the name was a dead-end in the system, it was probably Dalish."

"I thought the database was pretty extensive."

Hawke scoffed a little. "It is, but I'm not complaining of any gaps. It gives me something to do." She smiled at Merrill when a cloud of giggles erupted inside. "You should get back. Thank you."

"Oh, no problem. Long as someone hasn't put an eye out." Merrill went back inside, and Hawke raced back up to her workroom. _Flemeth_. She had seen the name before, and she remembers noting something about it, but she couldn't remember what.

It took her less than ten minutes to find an entry in the system, and if the amulet was hers, nothing good could come of it. It had to be locked away.

That meant going to Ship Captain Dumar, and presenting her findings to him and General Cullen. And Hawke didn't want to go down to Level 7 unless she absolutely had to.

_Like now_.

_Shit. Why did Sebastian have to unearth it and bring it back?_ Hawke leaned back, propping herself up against the edge of the table for support, and started chewing on her thumbnail. She'd have to prove that the necklace was at least six hundred years old, if not more, and that there really could be something very sinister in its enchantment. But then how could she prove that it was, other than _"I got a feeling when I looked at it, and I know it's bad because I'm really a Mage?"_

She swiveled around and took a long hard look at the amulet, carefully laid out on a thin bed of gauze on the tray. The longer she looked at it, the more convinced she was that there was a _heartbeat_, beating a steady rhythm within the locket. How could she get the others to hear it? And why couldn't Anders? He was a Confirmed Mage, after all, and he could practice freely as long as he kept the ship's population alive. And he had such control over his magic that it should have been so easy for him to _look_ at it and see it too.

A sharp, hard knock at the door startled her, and she realized that she had turned the bolt closed when she came in, so she got up to turn it back and open the door. Sebastian Vael stood before her, his eyes narrowed and focused. "Hawke," he greeted her curtly, "Is this a bad time?" _Oh, never_. She nodded and pulled the door open wide enough for him to step in.

He busied himself with a glove seam, and didn't look at her. "I ... owe you an apology." Next, he fidgeted with his vest, pulling it down. "I was too brash with you earlier, and I should have respected your opinion. You're the relics expert, after all," and a side of his mouth tugged into a sheepish grin, and his blue eyes snapped up at her. "I'm sorry."

If she wasn't busy being keenly aware of how close he was to the necklace, Hawke might have felt her heart flutter, but she caught his eyes darting to the tray.

"No, _don't_!"

She was too slow, he was too fast, and Sebastian had it in his hands, and all the breath in her body was caught in her throat as she braced herself for a scorch of fire, eyes shut and her arms suddenly up in front of her face.

But there was nothing.

Nothing but her anger.

Hawke reached for the chain, but Sebastian was at least a head taller than her, and he only had to hold it higher to keep it out of her grasp. He turned the locket in his hands, blue eyes narrowed again as he tried to make out the worn engraving. If she wasn't _so sure_ that it was cursed, Hawke would probably be intrigued by it as well - jewelry was so rare now when Salvage recycled every metal available.

"Damn it, Sebastian! You don't know what you're doing." She made another dash for it, but to no avail. "I'm telling you, it's dangerous, would you fucking trust me?"

"It's _mine_. I know what to do with it." He was entranced and mesmerized and enthralled, holding the locket up to the dim overhead lamps, squinting at the detail in the poor light but still keeping it away from her. He raised his other hand to it, his fingers finding the frail latch and twisting it open.

When she dared to exhale again, her breath steamed. A shiver ran up Hawke's back as the room got much colder, and yet her nose stung with burning sulfur, and her eyes threatened to water at the putrid smell. It felt as cold as the ship in the Anderfels that she eagerly left after just a week, but it smelled like Carver's hair when he came back from the Deep Roads.

She looked up at Sebastian, ready to yell at him and snatch the locket back, but he was wide-eyed and staring at something on the other side of the room, and he was reaching for his weapon.

Hawke was afraid to turn around to face it, and then a painful vice of a grip that seemed impossible from the gray bones that came into her peripheral vision. The pain shot up her neck and down her back and threatened to bring her to her knees, and Hawke reached out for Sebastian, watching his jaw set as he drew his rifle.

She felt an incredible gravity try to pull her whole through the metal grate. A searing heat of pain started to pull her muscles from her bones, and when her knees finally gave out and she fell to the floor, she saw her attacker, a gruesome, ancient form towering over even the corporal, its head brushing against the ceiling and its deceptively frail form wrapped in dark red and purple cloth that looked like they had been dragged through a thousand fires.

Its face, hollow and ghastly, immediately burned itself into every nightmare she had ever had, and Hawke screamed, but she couldn't hear anything above the pounding of her heart as it frantically fought to keep her alive.

_I can't die like this._

Hawke struggled to raise a hand up to the abomination and reached into the Fade to pull a memory she never wanted to see again.

_She was fighting to get up, to spark a light, to get him off her, but she was pinned under the weight of him, and she told herself she wouldn't cry no matter what he did. A sharp tinge of cold, and the sound of cloth ripping, and her mind was frantic, trying to find something in her mind to push him off. But the stench of his sweat was overwhelming and she was drowning in her self-loathing. How was she so stupid that she let herself get caught by a Knight Templar when she had been doing so well? A sear of heat pierced her chest, and instantly Hawke felt her entire body fall, the pain pushing down on her lungs and shooting out to her limbs._

A hot burst of light blinded her, followed by dozens of flashes, she still couldn't hear anything beyond her heartbeat as it drummed in her ears, and then there was nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a slow, steady stream of beeps at first.

She knew she was lying down, and she could feel bedding underneath her, well-washed and worn soft. _Still alive?_ She felt incredibly exhausted, like her breaths weren't enough to reach her fingers or her toes, but the pain was gone. All she could feel was warmth, especially around her left hand, the hand she had held up, she remembered. Hawke had to work to open her eyes, they felt like they were opening for the first time, and the bright lights of the clinic made her squint immediately.

_Oh, shit._ Her right hand flew to her chest, grabbing at the thin cloth of the clinic scrubs and pulling them up to her neck. The sudden movement jolted the man that was holding her hand, and Hawke blinked a few times in disbelief as she watched him lift his head to look at her. His face was worn with the lack of sleep and there were half a dozen cuts across his forehead, and the crease between his eyebrows appeared despite the smile he gave her. He was in pain, but he was pushing through it.

"Hawke," he managed hoarsely.

A dozen questions raced through her mind, and they all made her head hurt. _Did he see it? How long have I been out? What happened?_ She swallowed, and her throat was so dry it hurt. She tried to find a cup of water in her peripheral vision, but she couldn't tear herself away from the blue eyes that froze her in place. _He looks so pained._ "What-"

But Sebastian tore himself away from her, the stool wheels rattling. "Doctor! She's awake!" Hawke winced at the volume and closed her eyes for a reprieve from the light. Seconds later, a pair of warm hands held hers, and Anders was trying to fight a smile of relief as he stared at the monitor above her.

"How are you feeling?"

She winced as she tried to find enough moisture to speak, so she turned her head to look at the cup on the table next to her, and Sebastian practically lunged at it to bring it to her. The sip of water felt like a waterfall going down her throat. "Tired. And," Hawke stared into the cup to try and find the next word. "What happened?"

Sebastian took her hand again. "I'm so sorry, Hawke. You were right." He ran the back of a finger gently along the seam of a bandage that was taped down the length of her arm. "I was an idiot and I almost got you killed. I'm so sorry." He couldn't meet her gaze, but the crease in his eyebrows was back.

Anders stared at the drip from the IV bag, eyes narrowed and lips clenched. He was angry, she had seen that look before. "It was cursed, like you _told_ him. There was an abomination inside, and you were very lucky." He finally turned to face her, and his eyes were almost glazed over._Not enough sleep,_ Hawke knew. "Two broken ribs, a collection of burns, and you've lost a lot of blood. If you hadn't cast what you did, that-" he didn't finish.

Hawke felt her cheeks burn and wanted to melt into the gurney, and turned her head to watch the IV drip so she didn't have to look at anyone. "How long?"

"A week."

"The necklace?"

"Sealed up. The general has it locked away." Sebastian squeezed her hand a little. "Maker, Hawke, I'm so sorry."

Hawke got very familiar with the construction of an IV bag, and found out that it had been made in Orzammar. She pulled her hand out of his hold.

"Vael, I need to talk to my patient alone." There was a thin sheet of ice under his words. "Go get Carver." When Sebastian was gone and his footsteps told him he was on the ladder outside, Anders took the stool by her bed, and took her hands in his again. "Thank the Maker you're alright."

She managed a smile now that they were alone. "You're a good doctor."

He shook his head. "This was difficult, Hawke," he was stroking the back of her hand. "You lost a _lot_ of blood while he fought it off. Then, that_thing_, it exploded, and it coated the insides of your room. It took too much time for him to get you to me."

The last words were so warm she wanted to wrap herself up in them.

He continued. "The bastard was stupid, but I'll give him credit where it's due. He managed to take it down, and he got you here, and he rarely ever left. And he and Carver both gave you the blood you needed."

Hawke's eyes widened a little. "What?"

"For what it's worth, he kept a steady vigil, and he was the first to roll up his sleeves when I told him how much you needed. In fact, most of it's his since he was here most of the time."

She blinked, not knowing what to do with the knowledge.

Anders squeezed her hand a little. "Hawke, where did you get that scar?"

Her free hand shot up to her chest, and her cheeks burned again. "Templar."

"And a Sacred Heart at that." He swallowed and lowered his gaze. "You're a Mage."

A crest of fear came over her. "Well," she fidgeted with the collar of the scrubs, "it's not like it comes up in everyday conversation."

"But I've known you for years." He almost sounded first.

"Anders, until ... a week ago, only five people ever knew, and four of them are Hawkes." She thumped her head against the thin pillow. "And now everyone will."

"Cullen and Dumar are waiting for you to recover."

"Just what I need."

"Well, your room is ... pretty burned. As are you. The fact that you survived such a thing can't be ignored, and Vael saw everything."

Hawke somehow found the energy to lift her hip so she could turn to lie on her side and face the wall, moving away from the warmth of Anders' hands. The doctor took it as his queue to leave.

She was running through every possible explanation she could think of when a set of fast, heavy footsteps shook her from her misery._Carver_.

"Thank the Maker, you're awake." She turned to see her brother fight the urge to pull her into a bone-crushing hug. He hadn't been getting much sleep, either. Sebastian was behind him, and she could see the guilt on his face, and something else-

"We're all very glad you pulled through, Messere Hawke." General Cullen was a tall, serious man, and when Hawke first saw him three years ago, she wondered how he got through the _Kirkwall_'s doorways. And for three years, she had managed to avoid him. _Well, shit._ Rough hands gripped the bar at the foot of her gurney. "But there is the matter of your _gift_ and how you've never been confirmed. Why is that?"

Hawke felt cornered, and the beeps on the monitor above her started to quicken.

But Carver answered. "Our father was confirmed and conscripted, and he hated every minute of his missions, never mind that she was captured by a Sacred Heart."

Cullen jerked up straight. "What?"

Hawke swallowed and slowly pulled down the collar to reveal the long jagged pink line. The air had suddenly gotten very thick with tension, but she still felt cold. "I was twelve," she managed to choke out. _The searing heat, the wet copper smell of her own blood._ Out of the corner of her eye, Sebastian's nostrils flared, but he was silent.

The general crossed an arm and ran his other hand over his face. _So he knew what that meant._ "Where?"

"Ambush fifty miles south of Calenhad."

"Calenhad?"

"We were taking her to be confirmed, believe it or not," Carver huffed.

Cullen eyed him, and Carver seemed to deflate at the reminder that he was his superior. The general turned back to Hawke, who had pulled the collar back up to her neck. "As harrowing and unfortunate as that is, I still need to remind you that we're still hurting from the Seheron Wars, and that we need every conscription that we can get." He took a deep breath, his massive shoulders rising and falling and making the leather of his jacket creak with the movement. "But we'll talk later when you've recovered fully."

Hawke wasn't sure if she should be relieved for the temporary and fleeting reprive, or fearful for the inevitable. _Probably the latter_.

"The Antiquities and Relics department is in dire need of repair from the blast. Most of the items were safely locked away, and those have been moved to secure storage on Level 15 for the climate control needed. But because of the work needed on the floor your quarters are also closed since they're right underneath." The general turned to leave. "I'll have Private Hawke gather your things."

Hawke pulled herself up to try and call after him. "Where will I go?"

"Once you're better, the clinic needs this bed. Corporal Vael has offered his quarters."

"What?" Anders hadn't been very far away. "That's nonsense, General. We have plenty of beds and we've been very fortunate not to need all of them at once. She'll be fine here."

Cullen eyed the doctor and arched an eyebrow. "Doctor, you know as well as I do that we can't have her living out of here. Vael is offering his lodgings which are well out of your way should an emergency arise, and they'd be much more comfortable than a gurney, wouldn't you say so?"

Anders had no reply, and watched him leave. Carver went back to Hawke's side, where Sebastian already was.

"I'm sorry, Hadley, but I had to say something."

She could still feel a simmer of hatred and helplessness, but there wasn't anything she could do short of leaving the ship, which was out of the question. She squeezed his hand. "It's alright, Carver," she forced a small smile. "I'm tired of running and hiding, anyway." She let him gently push her back down onto the pillow. "Why can't I stay with you or Varric and Merrill?" She ignored Sebastian's visible wince.

"Privates don't have much more than a box and a bunk, and didn't you tell me those two live in a glorified walk-in closet?" Hawke hated that he was right. "And I'm sure Sebastian's new sergeant's quarters is more than enough room." There wasn't any way out, it seemed, and so Hawke nodded and let her brother go when the mess hall buzzer rang.

Sebastian stirred from his silence. "It's the least I could do, Hawke. I owe you that much." He got up and gave her hand a small squeeze, and she was too tired to refuse it. "I'll get you something to eat."

Not long after he left, Anders came back with a tray of gauze, bandages and surgical tape to change her dressings. Hawke kept her head turned so that he wouldn't see her fighting back tears, and he worked silently for a while, his fingers lightly pressing against her skin as he cleaned the wounds.

Finally, she spoke. "I don't know what's worse, the conscription or the new roommate." Hawke tried to make a jest, and Anders managed a small smile as he worked. She looked down at a long burn on the outside of her arm. "Will it scar?"

He shook his head. "It could, but I'll make sure it doesn't." He pressed his fingertips to the edges of the burn and the touch made her wince, but soon there was a trickle of warmth and the burn was significantly smaller. "You'll be pretty stable soon, the rest is all surface work, really. But with Blue Company off-ship, I have to make sure I have enough strength left in me just in case, but I'll come see you when I can." He was tracing a small circle on the inside of her elbow, but Hawke was too tired to be ticklish.

A pause, and he looked up at her. "You need to get some rest, Anders."

"Not while you're here." He leaned in closer to her, and she didn't feel the urge to flee this time - she was too tired. He placed a light kiss to her temple, and another when he saw her smile. When he spoke again, it was barely a whisper, his lips brushing against her ear and goosebumps racing up her arms and neck. "I was so afraid I'd lost you, Hawke."

"I think I'm a bit more resilient than you think." And then, after a thought, "Hadley."

"Hadley," he breathed, and she couldn't think of a time her name sounded so pretty. "No small feat, surviving that." Anders kissed her cheek right as the clatter of a tray and footsteps drew closer, and then he straightened up and started gathering his things, clearing a way for Sebastian. "Eat something, and I'll come by later."

Whatever Sebastian brought smelled _delicious_, and Hawke's mouth watered as she eased herself up to sit. _When was the last time she ate?_ A large bowl of stew was filled to the brim and threatened to spill onto a bright red apple, and the bread was still warm. _Military rations_. "Sebastian, I can't."

"I'll help you, then." He took up a nearby towel and draped it across her lap.

She shook her head, but it gave her a little headache. "This is _your_ meal."

"And I'm giving it to you so you can get better. End of discussion." Sebastian held out the spoon, and with a barely traceable amount of amusement, offered it to her. "Now, are you going to take it, or do I have to feed it to you myself?"

After some initial reluctance, Hawke made quick work of the stew and bread and pieces of the apple that Sebastian offered to her until Anders came back to her with a dose of antibiotics and a sedative that she welcomed. The last thing she saw as she drifted off was Sebastian reading to her as he kept his vigil. She had lost her sense of time in between naps, but she was able to guess that she was in the clinic for another week since Sebastian brought her twenty-one meals. Varric and Merrill visited when they could, but Hawke had to make a genuine effort not to hurt herself laughing as Varric complained about his trainees.

Sebastian made her smile, she gave him that. He knew that laughing too hard was taxing on her, so he tried to keep his conversation light but pleasant, and Hawke came to appreciate the feeling of him watching over her as she slept. Sometimes she'd wake up and hear him whisper prayers to the Maker and Andraste, always of thanks, and one time, she heard him ask _her_ for forgiveness when he finally deserved it. The thought made her heart ache a little, so she stirred a little and went back to sleep, hoping that that pain too would pass.

At least the sleep was dreamless.

Anders was just as attentive when someone wasn't coming into his clinic with fits of coughs or colds or injuries, and the burns on her arms soon healed with only faint scars. But with the sergeant's constant presence by her side and his other patients, Hawke didn't see much of him.


End file.
